


Ghostly Pursuits

by infinisei



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: College, F/M, Ghost Hunter Sam, Ghost King Danny, Ghost Obsession, badass sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinisei/pseuds/infinisei
Summary: “No!” The thermos vibrated in her hands. “You make a dire mistake, child! You risk your entire human world if you do not free me!”“I think I’ll take my chances,” she scoffed. She tossed the thermos in the air. It twirled twice before she caught it.“I am your only salvation! You will die if you don’t release me.”---Sam Manson's summer break turns really weird. And Sam huntsghosts.





	Ghostly Pursuits

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously don't know what happened. I was watching Butch Hartman's videos of Danny Phantom ten years later and then suddenly I have this 17,000+ word t h i n g. Basically, this is me pleading for Butch to announce that the reboot of Danny Phantom is happening. PLEASE DO IT!!!!
> 
> But in all honesty, this would be nowhere near coherent enough without tigrrli's help, who for some insane reason begged me to have her read it after I told her what I'd been working on. Seriously, the best beta EVER!!!!

Sam Manson was pretty sure she was the only college student who was _not_ happy about being home for summer.

 

She could admit that she enjoyed not having to go to classes or not needing to study. But Christ, she’d rather be studying for a final she had the next day than be stuck in _Amity Park_. Not only was her hometown filled with vapid and selfish idiots, but it also meant having to deal with her parents, who were vapid and selfish and _petty_ to the nth degree. Sam couldn’t even take comfort in sleeping in, because her parents were morning people and woke her up at seven every morning. Monsters.

 

Her only solace this summer would be the Skulk and Lurk and Gothic Poetry Night. With a little luck, the summer would be over before she knew it and she’d be back at Berkeley, the furthest she could get away from this place.

 

A loud crash interrupted her inner rant.

 

“Ghost!” a man screamed, followed by a series of more yells and screeches.

 

Well, Skulk and Lurk, Gothic Poetry Night, and ghost hunting. She couldn’t forget about the ghost hunting.

 

Mind happily diverted from her problems, Sam ran towards the source of the screaming while reaching behind her for her backpack. She turned the corner and, sure enough, there was a ghost with sunglasses, a cape, and an awful, silver mullet. His hands glowed white, and a store window shattered. Pieces of technology began flying out of the open window and circling him.

 

“Yes,” the ghost crowed, “come to me, my precious technology, so we can upgrade my form and induce fear upon the humans!”

 

“I don’t think any upgrade can save you from how awful that mullet is,” Sam snarked, snapping on her wrist rays. They whined as they powered up.

 

“Eh?” the ghost turned. As soon as he spotted her, he smirked. “You foolish girl! You think you can defeat me, Technus, the ghost of all things electronic?”

 

She couldn’t help but grin at that. “Yup, pretty much.”

 

She shot her rays and they struck Technus straight in the chest. He blew back a few feet.

 

A scowl on his face, Technus pointed his hands towards the swirling cloud of tech, and it converged and morphed into a ginormous humanoid robot. It glared down at her.

 

Time to work.

 

Sam shot the bot directly in the face. It raised an arm to block, but Sam was already moving, charging at the automaton’s legs. At such a low angle, it didn’t spot her second shot to its face until it was too late. It reeled back. Sam, now several feet behind it, aimed for the back of both knee joints.

 

It crashed to the ground.

 

Sam dipped her hand into her pocket and threw a couple of discs. They lodged in its neck, and the electrical shock from them shorted it out. It died with a whine.

 

Panting slightly, Sam looked up in time to see a TV flying towards her. She threw herself to the side, but was too slow; one corner glanced off her arm. That was going to be one hell of a bruise.

 

She scrambled back up in time to duck under the ghost’s hook and delivered an uppercut to his jaw.

 

He recovered quickly, and barreled into her in an instant. Hitting the ground, Sam hurriedly fended off the ghost’s descent onto her with a kick to his chest. She quickly followed the hit with a blast from her ray, and the force of it was enough to knock him into the brick of a bank.

 

Now or never. Technus was still on the ground, dazed from his crash, and Sam proceeded to take full advantage of it. Her Fenton Thermos was out of her backpack in a second, and was ready to fire in the next.

 

Technus saw what she was about to do. “No, wait!” he cried before the beam of energy overwhelmed him. Unmercilessly, the thermos sucked the ghost into the container.

 

She pushed a strand of hair away from her sweaty forehead and smiled triumphantly. It would always feel a little cathartic to kick some ghost ass.

 

“No!” The thermos vibrated in her hands. “You make a dire mistake, child! You risk your entire human world if you do not free me!”

 

“I think I’ll take my chances,” she scoffed. She tossed the thermos in the air. It twirled twice before she caught it.

 

“I am your only salvation! You will die if you don’t release me.”

 

She rapped sharply on the walls of the thermos. “Hey, can it, Technerd. You’re taking away my high.”

 

“Interesting,” a cold voice mused. The air chilled. Her thermos stopped rattling in her hands.

 

Gasping in surprise, Sam whirled around to find glowing crimson eyes staring at her with detached curiosity.

 

Suppressing the electric something crawling down her spine, she took a step back. Unlike the Technus ghost she’d just captured, this ghost looked around the same age as her. He was shorter but more toned than Technus, his skin a ghostly white that matched his silver hair and the black and white jumpsuit.

 

Switching her mind back into ghost hunting mode, she settled into a defensive stance.

 

Tires screeched and the smell of burned rubber filled Sam’s nose as three police cars arrived on the scene. At the sudden disturbance, Sam noted the circle of people that had gathered. They whispered to each other, taking fearful glances at the ghost in front of her. Two backed away and took off down the street.

 

“Ma’am, step away from the ghost!” The police had gotten out of their cars and were taking cover behind their doors.

 

“Don’t worry, I got this!”

 

“Step away, ma’am!”

 

What was this guy’s problem? “Stop worrying about me and get these people back!”

 

“I would listen to the officer,” the ghost piped in.

 

Oh, no he didn’t.

 

“I’m in a bad mood, ecto-scum, but if you’re dumb enough to float there in front of me, then I hope you’re ready for some pain.”

 

The ghost threw back his head and _laughed_.

 

Her jaw dropped. How dare he! She’d shown that she was more than capable of handling ghosts, _and he just laughs right in front of her face?_

 

A swell of anger had her clenching her fists. She marched right up to him. He straightened up as she approached, his mouth still crooked in a grin, giving her the perfect opportunity to give him a solid right hook to the face.

 

Every single human surrounding her gasped in horror.

 

The ghost fingered his cheek. “You punched me,” he noted, eerily calm.

 

“I did. What are you going to do about it?” Sam challenged. “Laugh in my face again? Go ahead, I dare you.” She readied her wrist rays, heartbeat quickening in excitement.

 

“Ma’am, please,” the cop’s voice had turned desperate. “Apologize to Phantom and let us take you home.”

 

“Apologize?” she fumed. “I will not apologize to an obnoxious, arrogant ghost who’s in the wrong dimension!”

 

The red-eyed ghost’s voice turned steely. “This dimension is under the rule of The Ghost King.”

 

She snarled back, “This dimension is the human world, and the ghosts have zero jurisdiction over it. Humans are strong-willed and smart and we will annihilate all of you from our home.”

 

He smiled. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

 

“Why would I care who you are, when I’ve already gotten you?” Triumphantly, she whipped out the Fenton Peeler and blasted him right in the chest.

 

Or, she would have, had the ghost not knocked the beam away with a flick of his wrist.

 

 _What the—_ She gaped at him. In all her time ghost hunting, none of the ghosts she’d encountered could survive the Fenton Peeler, let alone block it so nonchalantly.

 

And then a dose of common sense hit her like a cold bucket of water dumped on her head. The bystanders’ terror and meekness. His power unlike anything she’d ever seen. His presence demanding attention and submission. The police officer pleading with her to apologize to Phantom.

 

Not phantom. _The_ Phantom. As in The Ghost King, Phantom, the most powerful ghost in existence, ruler of all ghosts and _—_ for as long as humans could remember—humans. The ghost that killed hundreds of thousands of people to establish his reign on the human world.

 

_Oh, shit._

 

“Ma’am—” the policeman tried to start again, but in the blink of an eye and a flash of green, Phantom shot a hole right through the glass of the police car door and his chest.

 

The policeman stared down at himself in surprise. Then, he crumpled. He didn’t move again.

 

Several people screamed. Many began to bolt. The other officers, shaken at the sudden loss of their comrade, backed away in surrender, guns clattering to the ground. They piled into their cruisers and drove away with a screech, leaving Sam alone with The Ghost King.

 

Apparently, they recognized a lost cause when they saw one.

 

She was dead. And it was completely her fault. She couldn’t blame any of the bystanders; they had tried their best to warn her. She had gotten an officer killed because of it.

 

Sam tried to breathe through the invisible clamp on her chest. She knew how useless it would be to run, fight, or hide. It was best to just stay still and wait for it to be over.

 

Meanwhile, he continued to study her. “Figured out who I am?” he guessed in amusement.

 

She nodded. Then with a dull wave of resignation, she said, “Well, get on with it.”

 

“Get on with what?”

 

“You know, killing me. Making me wish I had never been born. Torturing me until I beg you to kill me.”

  
  
His eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to scream? Run away?”

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

“To save yourself?” he suggested.

 

Even in the face of certain death, she scoffed. “Why would I give you the satisfaction?”

 

This time, Phantom stepped right into her personal space. It was then that she became aware  of how the tip of her head only reached his chin, how his suit did nothing to hide the defined lines of his shoulders and arms, and how strands of his hair fell into his eyes but failed to lessen the power behind his gaze.

 

He brushed his hand against her cheek. “I could break you,” he murmured. “I could take your mind and your body and chip them away piece by piece until you’re begging for death. Why not do everything in your power to escape that fate?”

 

She was trembling at his words. “Because,” she managed, “I want to die as me. Maybe I’ll be enduring the worst pain of my life soon, but I don’t beg anyone for anything, and I won’t let The Ghost King change that.”

 

With that, she braced herself. She thought of Tucker, and how lucky she was to have found him as a friend. And despite all the past headaches caused by the pair, she thought of her parents, who would be wrecked at the news of her death.

 

Speaking of her death, why wasn’t she dead yet?

 

A chuckle came from him. She peeked through her eyelashes. His hand was still on her cheek and tingles from the contact leached into her. There was a gleam in his eyes.

 

“I have to say, you are either the stupidest or bravest human I’ve ever met.”

 

Stress had her slapping his hand away. “That’s great, really happy for you.”

 

Still grinning, he said, “You know what? I’ve changed my mind.”

 

“...About?” Sam asked cautiously.

 

“Congratulations, you are the first creature—dead or alive—that I’ve allowed to live after insulting me in such a way.”

 

 _What?_ ”You’re... _you’re letting me go?_ ”

He shrugged, which was such an absurdly human look that it took a second for her to pay attention to what he was saying. “My usual methods of torture don’t seem to fit. I think you call for a more…slow, deliberate torture. So, for now, you’ll get to go home with the knowledge that I’m not done with you.”

 

* * *

 

She came home with her cheek still tingling and half in denial over what had just happened.

 

“Sammykins, is that you?”

 

Sam winced at the piercing sound of her mother’s voice. She did not have the energy to handle either of her parents right now. “Yeah, it’s me,” she called out. ”I’ll be in my room. Don’t wait for me for dinner!”

 

She moved to escape. She should have known better; when Pam Manson set her mind to something, reality bent to her will to make it happen. The Manson matriarch caught her right at the foot of the stairs. “Sammykins, where have you been? I’ve called you ten times in the last hour!”

 

Sam could already feel the headache coming on. “I’m sorry, mom. My phone died.”

 

Pam huffed in irritation. “Well, make sure it doesn’t happen again. You made it just in time to get ready for your Casper High reunion.”

 

“Don’t worry, mom, I—what? What Casper High reunion? It hasn’t even been five years since I graduated high school!”

 

“Casper High highly values its alumni community. So, go and get dressed so you can get there on time! I left an outfit on your bed to save time.”

 

Sam scowled. “Mom! I’m not going to go to a stupid reunion. Not only did I promise myself that I would never step foot on that campus ever again when I graduated, but also everyone in my year hates me. And the feeling is mutual.”

 

“Nonsense! There were plenty of wonderful kids in your class. You deserve a day to ‘hang out’ with your friends and ‘catch up.’”

 

Sam rubbed her temples. “Mom, for once in your life, would you please listen to me? _I’m not going back to that hellhole_.”

 

Her mother frowned at that. “Samantha Manson, you will go to that reunion, and that is the end of this discussion.”

 

There went any hope of her headache going away. Idly, Sam wondered why she had taken the time to miss her parents when she thought she was about to die. “I’m a full-grown adult! You can’t make me do anything!”

 

“Oh?” Her mother raised an eyebrow. “What about our agreement?”

 

Sam’s teeth clacked shut.

 

Pam smiled coldly. She knew she had her daughter right where she wanted her. “The driver is waiting out front. Don’t be late.”

 

As soon as her mother left the room, Sam stomped up to her room to stuff her face in a pillow and scream in frustration.

 

There was a deep chuckle suddenly above her head. “And I’d thought I’d already seen obnoxious parenting.”

 

Sam couldn’t help but yelp at the voice. She turned and sat up, searching the room.

 

“I’m right here,” it whispered directly into her ear, and she reflexively jerked away, tumbling to crouch at the side of her bed.

 

He materialized right in front of her eyes, floating on his back over her bed. He rested his hands on his hands, entirely nonchalant about being in her room uninvited.

 

He turned his head to smirk at her. “Hello, Samantha.”

 

“You—” She couldn’t even. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I told you I’d be back,” he reminded her, still content to hover in the middle of her room. “That’s a fucking awful dress your mother picked for you. Has she always had such shitty taste?”

 

Confused at the unexpected topic, she chanced a glance at her bed. Sure enough, a slightly-crumpled magenta dress with flowery, white lace lay there, waiting. She wanted to gag just looking at the bright, feminine monstrosity.

 

A thought occurred to her. “Wait a second, how did you know my mother picked that out?”

 

Phantom tsked. “You know, for a relatively competent ghost hunter, I thought you’d be more aware of your surroundings.”

 

She gaped at him. “You came back to spy on me and my family?”

 

“You’re assuming I left in the first place, dear Samantha.”

 

Her heart stopped for a second. Not only had he stalked her, he knew her name, where she lived, and her family. She had just brought danger to haunt her doorstep.

 

Was this what she had signed herself up for? For this ghost to learn every single part of her life, to never know when he wasn’t watching, to be forever paranoid? For him to peel her like an onion, study every newly-revealed facet of her, good and bad, and rip it away until all that was left of her was a shell, content to watch him hurt those she loved?

 

She snatched a ghost gun from under her bed and aimed it at him. “Get out!”

 

“No.”

 

She tightened her grip on the gun. “I said get out!”

 

“Sammykins! You better be down here, fully presentable, in an hour, or I’m coming up there!”

 

 _Her mother_. “I’ll be right down,” she called back, desperately trying to suppress the panic in her voice.

 

Phantom grinned. “Better get dressed.”

 

Her lips pressed tightly together. She had to get ready, but there was no way in hell she was changing in front of him. And she had no way of making sure he would stay out. Sam pointed a finger at him. “Just. Stay there.”

 

She snatched the dress from her bed, then went to her bathroom and locked herself in. She moved quickly, pulling out her supplies to make her usual adjustments to the dress before stripping. Every so often, she would suspiciously glance at the door, then around the room, looking for some sign that Phantom had decided to peek in. She couldn’t tell.

 

Soon, Sam finished and flung open the door. With a jolt of relief, she found him in the exact same place she’d left him. _Not that it meant anything_ , a voice in her head sneered at her.

 

He glanced at her once, then looked again. Hard.

 

She knew what he was thinking. He’d been expecting her to cave completely and wear the godawful dress. The thing was, he didn't know her, or her usual procedure for salvaging any item of clothing her parents pressured her into wearing. She’d ripped off most of the lace and dyed the entire thing black. She’d then put on minimal makeup, a necklace, and a set of earrings from her grandmother.

 

All in all, she’d managed to pull off a look that fit her tastes while still (somewhat) appeasing her mother.

 

Slowly, Phantom moved into an upright position, eyes still trained on her like lasers. His gaze swept up and down her figure as if it were a physical touch.

 

Sam crossed her arms. “What?”

 

“Impressive.” He drifted over to her.

 

“What, that I’d managed to dress myself?” Sam said sarcastically. He circled around her, and Sam turned with him, keeping him in her sight.

 

“Do you do this often?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Passive-aggressive wardrobe modifications.”

 

She snorted. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since I was six.”

 

“Why put up with it at all?”

 

She squinted at him. “Why are you asking?”

 

“I’ve only known you for a sum total of ninety minutes and I already got the feeling that you don’t let anyone tell you what to do.”

 

“I know what my beliefs and my rights are; I won’t let let anyone take that away from me.”

 

A glint appeared in his eyes, and Sam instantly regretted saying that.

 

Very deliberately, he placed his hand on her throat, fingers wrapping around her frantic pulse. She kept stock-still, barely daring to even blink. “How funny,” he mused. “I know what my rights are as King; in fact, I can’t seem to think about anything that’s not in my right. That includes taking away some of yours.”

 

Sam said nothing.

 

His eyes traced her figure again. “Keep that in mind, next time you try to talk back at me.”

 

And then he disappeared, leaving her alone in her room.

 

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, Casper High looked exactly the same since she’d last seen it. Dingy lockers, stained floors, flickering lights overhead—was the auditorium still under construction? Damn, the place must’ve been consistently haunted by ghosts for months on end for it to look that bad. Yup, same old high school.

 

Had she mentioned how much she despised this place?

 

Sam hadn’t been lying or exaggerating when she told her mother that she had vowed to never set foot on this campus ever again. There was a memory waiting for her in every place she looked, and none of them were pleasant reminders.

 

It was one thing to be a goth in high school. It was another to be an ultra-recyclo vegetarian goth who believed in animal and planetary rights and was vocal enough about it to grate on her fellow students’ and teachers’ nerves. No amount of money in her family’s bank account could make up for how she spat in the faces of Casper High’s social elite and never once apologized for it, nor regretted it.

 

Hence why Sam was currently hiding in a dark corner of the gym, silently cursing her mother while glaring at the excessive amount of streamers and balloons that reminded her of the junior prom she’d been forced to attend. She was also checking her phone every twenty seconds and praying to every deity she knew of to make the whole thing go quicker.

 

But then again, she was also a pessimist.

 

“ _What_ is _this_? Another part of the Ghost Zone designed specifically to torture those inside?”

 

Sam flinched. She exhaled, and her breath wafted in front of her. “Why are you here? Stop following me!” she hissed with as much vitriol as she could under her breath.

 

“I was curious why you were so against going to a silly reunion.” His ever-present pretentious attitude grated on her nerves in the worst way.

 

“Isn’t a stupid high school event a little beneath you?” she asked acerbically.

 

The air shifted behind her, and she shuddered at the weight of his presence at the back of her neck. Arms encircled her waist. With aborted movements, Sam frantically tried to twist away, but his grip was like iron. “Stop trying to irritate me,” he warned her in a murmur. “You won’t do yourself—or those close to you—any favors.”

 

The threat was quite clear. Gritting her teeth, she opened her mouth to reply—

 

“Well, if it isn’t Sam Manson!”

 

_Oh, for the love of all that was dark and demented. Just great._

 

Struggling to look like she wasn’t _literally_ in the clutches of an evil ghost, Sam watched warily as Paulina Sanchez and Dash Baxter strolled up to her arm-in-arm. Out of everyone that she had not wanted to run into here, these two were tied for first place.

 

“Who do we have here?” Phantom drawled.

 

She had to get them away from The Ghost King as soon as possible. She didn’t even try to fake a smile. “Paulina. Dash.”

 

“Never thought I’d see you again. I thought you’d already be in jail for protesting about pollution, or whatever.” Paulina gave her outfit a disgusted once-over. “Though your ‘dress’ will rectify that soon.”

 

Phantom’s grip tightened on her infinitesimally.

 

Sam ignored him. “Wow, you’ve really improved your vocabulary since the last time I saw you, Paulina,” she said sarcastically. “Rectify—three syllables and everything!”

 

“Bitch!” Paulina spat at her.

 

Dash sneered. “Still a cunt with no friends who throws herself into hopeless causes because she can’t get anyone to care about her.”

 

A crowd had formed during Dash’s insult, consisting of the Power Couple’s lackeys, Kwan and Starr. They all snickered at the public humiliation she was dealing with. Someone in the back of the crowd jeered, “You tell her, Dash!”

 

It was really nothing Sam’d ever heard before, but the more they felt like they were successfully harassing her, the more likely they weren’t going to leave her alone anytime soon. _Of course Dash and Paulina had to be difficult_ , she thought darkly.

 

“Hilarious,” Sam said flatly. “How’s college been for you, by the way? Oh wait, you got held back a year! Or was it two?” She let a cruel smirk grace her face. “Shouldn’t you be in class right now, Dash? Lancer won’t be happy that his ‘star pupil’ is skipping class.”

 

The football jock’s face flushed red, and the vein in his temple pulsed unattractively. “How the fuck do you know about that?”

 

She crossed her arms over Phantom’s. “There are some benefits to being the Casper High Goth Cunt. People don’t pay attention to the losers while spilling secrets. Oh wait, was that secret? Whoops!”

 

“You—” And then, he was right in front of her, his hand raised high.

 

She had miscalculated badly, Sam realized. She had thought announcing an embarrassing secret would cause the two to slink back into the shadows, but she had forgotten Dash’s temper. Sam readied herself to block his strike, but before she could do anything, Dash’s arm just _stopped in midair_.

 

Dash blinked at his unmoving arm. “Hey, what gives?”

 

“You know, in all my years of existence, one of the things I have always hated is scum who think they’re at the top of the food chain.”

 

Sam’s hands instantly dropped to her waist, where her palms only met the lace of her dress and empty air.

 

There was no one behind her, which meant—

 

Phantom appeared between one breath and the next, his hand still gripping Dash’s wrist.

 

A dark spot appeared at Dash’s crotch. The music screeched to a halt. Silence deafened the gymnasium, before—

 

“It—It’s The Ghost King!” someone whimpered.

 

“Run!” another shrieked.

 

Many turned to flee, but Phantom countered, a blazing blue beam that froze everyone’s shoes to the ground. Some were encased in ice completely.

 

Kwan screamed. “My feet!”

 

Phantom sneered at them all. “Pathetic.” He turned back to Dash, who was desperately cowering. “Now,” Phantom continued lazily, “time to teach you some manners.”

 

The sound of electricity crackled around Phantom and Dash before Dash spasmed under his grip. He shrieked in agony.

 

The smell of charred flesh filled the air, turning Sam’s stomach. “Stop! Don’t hurt him!”

 

“Why?” he drawled over the screams. “He’s a waste of space. I’d be doing you and the world a favor by killing him.”

 

Recklessly, Sam elbowed her way between the two. Phantom must have stopped electrocuting Dash, since she wasn’t on the ground spasming herself and there was only whimpering behind her. “Dash may be an idiot and, at times, a brute, but he doesn’t deserve to die from electrocution.”

 

Paulina gasped. “The goth freak is using The Ghost King to hurt Dash!”

 

The utter absurdity of the sentence sent Sam sputtering. “The fuck are you talking about?”

 

It was too late, though. The idea was out, and it spread quickly. Mutterings began spreading around them.

 

_Manson’s a ghost lover?_

 

_She’s going to get revenge on us all!_

 

_Someone call the Guys in White!_

 

“And people question why I hate humans,” Phantom said.

 

Sam glared at him. “Get lost! The Guys in White will be here soon.”

 

“Don’t insult me by putting me on the same level as them,” he snapped, his temper flaring again. He tightened his other hand on her waist in warning.

 

“I wasn’t,” she said quickly. She thought fast. “Look, I’ll go with you wherever you want if you leave these people alone.”

 

He quirked an eyebrow. Tilting her head, Sam shivered as he bent his head so that his face was inches from hers. She couldn’t break away from his red eyes.

 

“Deal,” Phantom announced. He released Dash’s wrist—and then he was right in front of her, his arms encircling her. There was a tug at her navel, and her vision twisted into darkness.

 

* * *

  

“I’m home,” Sam announced tiredly.

 

“Samantha, is that you?” her father replied. “Oh, thank God.”

 

Bracing herself for the interrogation of a lifetime, she trudged into the sitting room. She stopped just short of the entryway.

 

It wasn’t just her parents there. Two strangers in dark sunglasses and impeccably pressed white suits sat across from them.

 

The two visitors stood up. “Samantha Manson,” the first one said.

 

“You are under arrest for attempted murder and breaching the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act,” the second one finished.

 

“ _What?_ ” Sam took a step back, only to bump into two more agents behind her. She jerked forward; she hadn’t even heard them approach.

 

“Samantha,” her mother said tearfully. “What is this? These agents tell us you’ve been consorting with a ghost.”

 

“Not just any ghost,” her father cut in harshly. “The Ghost King.”

 

“Mom, Dad, it’s not what you think.”

 

“Samantha, there were reports that you seemed...intimate...with Phantom.”

 

“Where is this information coming from?” Sam cried out incredulously.

 

Agent #1 answered, “Several reliable sources reported that you seduced Phantom into severely injuring more than a dozen of your former classmates, even torturing one.”

 

 _Dammit, Paulina._ “Well, those sources are _wrong—_ ”

 

There was a beep behind her and one of the agents spoke up, “An ecto-signature over the suspect has been confirmed, sir.”

 

Her mother choked on a cry. Agent #2 said grimly, “As I suspected. Mr. and Mrs. Manson, with your permission, our agency would like to take your daughter to our state-of-the-art lab to conduct some research on how Phantom managed to influence her. Hopefully, our scientists will find a solution to break his hold on her promptly.”

 

“I’m not being controlled by Phantom!” Sam denied loudly. But even as she said it, a tiny worm of doubt wriggled in the back of her mind. Something was tugging her close to the deadliest ghost known to history, making her constantly focus on the strength of his arms around her, the cool, collected tone of his voice, and the mystery behind his eyes. Could it be that he was messing with her mind, making her attracted to him?

 

“You have our permission, Agent,” her father said.

 

“I’m over eighteen! I’m a legal adult, and you don’t have a say in what happens to me!”

 

“According to the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act, any decision of those who are suspected of ghostly influence is not legally valid. Their former parents or guardians regain legal authority over the suspect.”

 

Sam couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Suddenly, her arms were twisted behind her back, and handcuffs were tightened to the point of pain around her wrists.

 

“No! Let me go! I demand a lawyer!”

 

“Your father and I will make sure that you receive the best treatment available, Sammykins. We love you!”

 

With that, her parents let her get dragged away to some unknown government lab.

 

Well, not if Sam Manson had anything to say about it.

 

Ten feet away from the unmarked car the two junior agents were obviously about to haul her into, she struck. She elbowed the guy to her left in the nose. There was a sharp crack, and the man yelled. She was already down and twisting, her leg knocking the other off his feet. The sound of the second agent’s head hitting concrete had a shiver run over her skin. Forcing her reaction down, she sent a quick punch to the first agent’s head, and he was out too.

 

Fully aware that the senior agents still talking to her parents would be on her in seconds, Sam snatched the keys to her handcuffs from one of the unconscious agents and took off.

 

* * *

 

After so many years of wishing people would leave her alone, this reality had not been what she had in mind.

 

She no longer had to worry about the Guys in White; they were still desperately trying to recover after a “run in” with Phantom, and even if they did reorganize enough to be able to go after her again, Phantom’s threats were petrifying enough for the government force to avoid her for the rest of her life, no matter what her parents did. She was now considered to be an adult again, and her parents could no longer legally touch her. And it was all Phantom’s doing.

 

But her life would never be the same.

 

Eyes constantly tracked her in public, no matter where she went. Whispers were always at the edge of earshot. Crowds parted a path for her whenever she had to walk through. The only reason why the landlord of Sam’s new place had allowed her to purchase one of her apartments was because Sam was paying double the rent.

 

She may not have to be worried about being arrested and being deprived of her rights as a US citizen, but she knew she was being monitored, even if she couldn’t always identify where or how.

 

Any dreams she had for herself had crashed and burned in a swarm of green fire.

 

_And it was all that Phantom ghost’s fault._

 

She never would’ve gotten on the radar of the Guys in White, been suspected of being sympathetic to ghosts by her parents and the entire world, and unable to even get ice cream without everyone holding their breath around her, if he hadn’t been stalking her in the first place. But then, if he hadn’t intervened, she would also likely be suffering under extremely unethical testing right now. But the reason why people wanted to submit her to unethical testing in the first place was because he wouldn’t _goddamn leave her alone_. And so the cycle continued.

 

Glaring at the cashier’s fearful, stuttering goodbye, she snatched her change and bags and stalked out the grocery store. Wanting out of the public eye as much as possible, she turned into an abandoned alley, the beginning of her new route to her apartment.

 

Sam had once thought she would never hate a ghost more than Undergrowth. Now, she would've done anything to have her worst problem be the genocidal plant ghost.

 

How she wanted to hurt Phantom. To make him regret ever deciding to interfere in her life. To wish that he had never continued to keep coming to her.

 

Speaking of the devil…

 

A tingle flooded her insides, spreading out to trail over her skin. Sam sighed and halted.

 

“I know you’re there. What do you want now?”

 

Phantom made a noise of approval. He turned visible in front of her. “You’ve gotten better at sensing me.” He started playing with her hair. “You’ll make a great hunter soon. One of the best.”

 

A habit now, she slapped his hand away. “I asked you what you wanted,” she said frostily.

 

Her attitude rolled off of him easily. Strangely, he was becoming less and less volatile whenever she sassed him. Unfortunately, he would just draw closer to her. The less afraid she became of him, the less afraid he was of closing the distance between them.

 

“I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I want.”

 

“Remember what I said about personal space?” Sam asked sharply. “This is what I’m talking about. I _will_ start wearing the Specter Deflector again.”

 

“You know that doesn’t work on me,” he dismissed.

 

 _Ugh_ , he was _so_ infuriating! A cumulation of the dozens of rants about him ran through her head. “Well, maybe I should call the Fentons and have them make me one that does.”

 

He frowned at that. “You wouldn’t.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow at that. Wow, after all this time, he didn’t know her at all, did he? “Try me.”

 

Phantom gave her his usual piercing stare, but grudgingly backed off.

 

Guess he did know her a little.

 

“You know, you’re way more transparent than you think you are.”

 

Or…not.

 

“What are you talking about?” she said in exasperation.

 

He didn’t respond right away. “You try so hard to remain distant from the world because it’s always let you down. And even if you’ve got a friend who’s proven otherwise, deep down, you’re still afraid that they’ll betray you too, and you’ll be left alone again.”

 

Something cleaved straight through Sam’s chest, piercing her heart and stealing her breath for one terrifying long moment. Caught off guard, she let anger flood over it. “Who do you think you are?” she snapped, stalking over to him.

 

Phantom remained aloof in the face of her fury. “I am The Ghost King,” he responded simply.

 

“More like Ghost Infant,” she shot back heatedly. “All you’ve done is follow me around like a helpless puppy. I’ve tried and tried to shoo you away, to send you back to where you belong—the Ghost Zone—and leave me where I belong: the human world.”

 

That seemed to get to him. “Don’t speak to me like that.”

 

“Or what,” she challenged, “you’ll glare at me menacingly? Remind me for the thirtieth time that you’re The Ghost King? Say ‘Don’t cross me again, or I’ll make sure you scream?’”

 

His eyes began to smolder ember red. Suddenly, he was back to eliminating the distance between them. “Maybe I will,” Phantom said darkly. His ghostly aura seeped into her, and the chill ached all the way down to her bones.

 

“I hate you,” Sam spat. “You’ve completely ruined my life! I may have had some complaints about my life before, but at least I could walk through the streets without being gawked at in fear! And for what? Your brief entertainment?”

 

“Congratulations, you finally got it!” he snarled back. “It took you long enough. I was wondering if you were really as smart as it seemed.”

 

Sam could literally feel her eye twitch. “Well, now that the jig’s up, you can finally leave now! Good riddance.”

 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!” he roared at her.

 

“Of course you do! Because you’re more of a Ghost Baby than a Ghost King!”

 

They met in a clash of teeth and tongue, Sam’s frustration and fear giving her strength to tug fistfuls of silvery hair, urging him closer. He gave as good as he got, one hand at the nape of her neck, and the other curling on the inside of her thigh, pulling her closer to him. She bit his lip in retaliation, and he growled in response before her back was suddenly scraping against the wall, her body trapped between the brick and the icy chill of his body. She shuddered in pleasure at the contact. She gasped for air between kisses, and he took full advantage, taking control and entering her mouth with his tongue until she was twisting against him. He broke the kiss, and he moved down to explore her pulsepoint at her throat. He licked one particularly sensitive spot once before closing his teeth around it. “Fuck!” she gasped, raking her nails down the back of his neck and shoulders. Her core throbbed in desperate need of friction. With quick movements, she slid her hips up against him, the friction and the hardness wrenching an almost-whine from her throat.

 

The sensations were sizzling across her nerves, and her heartbeat raced in her ears. She needed more, so much more, and she needed him to give it to her _now_.

 

Harsh awareness slapped clarity into her. She jerked his lips away from his. Her hands pushed at his shoulders. “No!”

 

Phantom broke away sharply, and moved back several feet. Her body felt the loss of contact acutely. Stunned, Sam couldn’t help but note his swollen lips and tousled hair and wild, dark irises.

 

“What—what the fuck did you do to me?” She said with panting breaths.

 

“Me?” he said roughly. “The hell does this have to do with me?”

 

“You’re The Ghost King,” she said accusingly. “You’re the one with unlimited power and the ability to make anyone do whatever he wants. So whatever you’re doing, stop it right now, or I swear that I will make you pay for it!”

 

Her words infuriated him. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” he said dangerously. The street lights above them flickered. Lightning charged the air with his power, and she hated herself for the thrill of want that quaked through her body.

 

“I’ll talk to you however I want when you force me to do what you want without my consent!”

 

“I didn’t force you to do anything!” he roared.

 

“You liar! You are a sick, disgusting creature and I’d rather die a million deaths than be near a monster like you.”

 

And then he appeared inches from her face, the fire that had once been leashed bursting free. “I DID NOTHING TO YOU!”

 

“THEN HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THIS?” Sam screamed.

 

The question seemed to strike him like a physical blow and, as quickly as it was to appear, his anger was gone, replaced by uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. He gave her one last look—curiosity, lust, confusion, _fear_ —before dissolving into a cloud of red smoke.

 

* * *

 

Sam slammed her plate of veggie burgers and tofu fries down on the table. The TV droned on, but she couldn’t even take in the words. She trembled in rage and…something else. Not that she’d acknowledge it.

 

She was still doubting whether the events in the last hour were real. Absently, she brushed her swollen lips with the tips of her fingers.

 

He had kissed her like he was a demon and she was his only salvation. He had taken every single rational thought in her head and banished them with bruising intensity.

 

And she had met him with just as much passion.

 

Her cheeks grew warm at the thought. She was such an idiot! What had gotten into her?

 

She moodily drummed her fingers on the tabletop, then sighed. Well, it didn’t matter now. He was gone, and it looked like he wasn’t coming back. She could get back to her life.

 

“This just in,” a newscaster reported. Sam banished any thoughts of The Ghost King and focused on the news channel, “a ghost has escaped the Ghost Zone and is wreaking havoc on Amity Park. The spectre known as Undergrowth—”

 

She choked, struggling to keep her bite of burger down. With effort, she swallowed it heavily. It burned like acid the entire way down.

 

“No,” she whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hi, Sam,” Maddie Fenton welcomed her with open arms. “I’m sorry we had to see each other again under these circumstances.”

 

“Me too,” Sam responded quietly. She hugged the maternal ghost hunter warmly.

 

Maddie pulled away to eye her at arm’s length. “I heard some disturbing reports about you on the news,” she commented offhandedly.

 

She stiffened at the reminder of Phantom. She forced her voice to sound normal. “All rumors. Nothing I can’t handle.”

 

Maddie studied her for a moment, then smiled. “Well, if you ever need help, know that the Fentons are always here for you.”

 

Sam gave her a rare smile. “I know. Thanks, Mrs. Fenton.”

 

“Please, it’s Maddie, Sam. Now, come in. We have a ghost to destroy!”

 

* * *

 

The plan was simple.

 

Undergrowth was following the same pattern that he enacted when he first came to the human world four years ago. He destroyed everything in his path, leveling infrastructure, buildings, and entire forests, killing humans in his way, and enslaving those he didn’t. He would pick the humans that believed in his ideals the most, and twisted their minds until they believed him to be the father they never had and did his bidding with a smile.

 

She would know. She’d lived it.

 

Their group of ghost hunters would split up; Jack and Jazz Fenton would attack the mind control vines, freeing the enslaved humans. Maddie and Sam would take on Undergrowth.

 

However, there was always a chance that Undergrowth was prepared for an attack like that and had something up his sleeve; he wasn’t your average ghost that could only come up with something as complicated as a one-point plan. But Maddie had already planned ahead. Before leaving for battle, she had pulled Sam aside and pressed three vials into her hand.

 

“Something I’ve been working on in case Undergrowth returned,” Maddie explained. “A highly potent toxin lethal to plants with ectoplasmic energy. Only use it if nothing else has worked; it’s untested, so I can’t guarantee it will work the way I designed it.”

 

Sam nodded and tucked them away into her pocket. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

 

“Maddie, Sam, let’s hit the road!” Jack Fenton bellowed. “Time to kick some ghost butt.”

 

Jack dropped Maddie and Sam off five blocks from Undergrowth’s last known location. Both women were outfitted in Fenton Exterminator Armor, built to destroy plants and protect against the Mind Vine.

 

“Well, if it isn’t my two least favorite humans.”

 

Immediately, Maddie and Sam stood back to back, weapons hot and ready to fire at the first sign of the ghost.

 

“Did you really think you could sneak up on _me_? Mere moments since escaping the Ghost Zone, and my children were already watching your every move.”

 

“Ew. Obsessive stalker much?” Sam muttered. They began walking forward together, alert.

 

“I heard that,” Undergrowth snapped. Rustling behind buildings and newly-grown shrubbery had Sam’s eyes darting back and forth, ready to respond. “I was curious about how far you would go to try to kill me. I’m honestly disappointed how… lacking this plan is. Especially yours, my dear daughter.”

 

“Okay, one,” Sam snarled, “I am not your daughter and never will be. Two, I already have one disapproving father; I don’t need a delusional psychopath acting like my second one.”

 

“We will see,” he dismissed her, “after you attempt to defeat my new children.”

 

A wave of his hand, and the ground around the two women cracked open, sprouting what looked like a cross between Oleander and Venus Flytrap. They glowed with ghostly energy, and growled ravenously as they inched closer.

 

“ATTACK!”

 

The world became a little bit of a blur after that.

 

_Dodge a spiked leaf, block a vine, fire ice at Plant One, Two, Three. Jump over two animated plant goons lunging for her, fire, stab, fire._

 

“Sam, behind you!”

 

There was a blow to the back of her shoulder. She rolled with the momentum. She flung her arm back. Shot the creature in the head. It froze over.

 

Another curled back, ready to strike, when it screeched as an ice beam caught it in the eye and it froze over. Maddie.

 

Sam saw a flash of color behind Maddie and made a twisting motion with her wrist. A blade dropped free from the armor. Lunging forward, she swung the blade and caught the plant monster right in the neck. She then pulled a grenade from her belt and flung it at the twisting vines forming together. There was a bang, and chunks flew everywhere.

 

“Thanks!” Maddie panted. They both moved to their defensive positions.

 

“Back atcha.”

 

With that, they readied themselves again.

 

“Enough of this!”

 

She never saw him coming.

 

He hit her with the force of a bullet in the side. There was a second of weightlessness, then the air was wrenched from her lungs. Her head hit concrete, and black spots filled her vision.

 

Dark, billowing laughter echoed. Sam pressed her eyes closed to stop seeing double.

 

“Foolish child,” Undergrowth crooned, his voice dripping with sickly sweet sap. “Even now, I sense how restless you are. You yearn for something. You were so content as my Caretaker; join me, and be happy again.”

 

“I know you’re a selfish, close-minded, ectoplasmic maniac,” she managed, “but you don’t get to tell me what makes me ha—” She cut herself off when one of Undergrowth’s new hybrid creatures arced towards her.

 

She was too slow to react. It went right for her midsection, piercing through her armor and skin.

 

Shocks of pain rippled through her. She swallowed a scream. The smell of copper filled her nostrils.

 

Shoots wormed into the space between steel and skin, and the Fenton Exterminator Armor broke apart. It gave the greenery more room to strike. Thorns lanced through every available space, scraping and pricking.

 

Scorching agony raked through her, and shrieks resonated through the streets. Distantly, Sam hoped that wasn’t Maddie, that she was safe.

 

In the brief moment her mind cleared, she fumbled at the remains of the armor. Her fingers closed around the cool glass of a vial.

 

A shadow rose over her. Undergrowth matched his current level of power in size, easily as tall as a skyscraper. He grinned, revealing the jagged edges of his mouth.

 

“Surrender, my daughter. Surrender, and I will make your suffering end. Help me make the world better.”

 

“ _NO!_ ”

 

It wasn’t a scream, or a shout, exactly. It was a tsunami of sound, big enough that it felt like a physical force. The pressure on her ears had her dropping the vial to cover her ears. Layers of power swelled in each note, vibrating through her bones.

 

Phantom.

 

Undergrowth’s grip on her slackened. “M—My King!” he stammered, his voice cowed and cautious.

 

Even with her vision clearing by the second, she felt more than saw Phantom come between her and the plant ghost.

 

“Release her,” his voice brooking no argument. Sam had never heard him so sinister.

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“RELEASE HER NOW!” The ground trembled. A couple car alarms went off.

 

Vines withdrew from her completely, the sudden lack of pressure making her lungs fill with air, and she made a noise that was a mix of relief and pain. Her sight cleared completely, and she blinked the fuzziness away in time to see Undergrowth rightly cowering below Phantom, whose fury was rippling his hair and casting shadows.

 

“My King, I—” Undergrowth barely had time to try again before Phantom backhanded him savagely. The blow decimated Undergrowth’s face, and he quickly shifted to regenerate it.

 

“Please, King Phantom. She’s just an insignificant human girl. Easily expendable and replaceable.”

 

Phantom’s haunting red irises dimmed, replaced by a green glow. Phantom stretched his hand out, palm facing outward, and curled his fingers inward, as if he was squeezing something. Undergrowth convulsed, shrieking in pain. Rapidly, the giant plant ghost shrank, soon becoming the size of a house, then a car, then a person. Within seconds, the ghost had gone from full strength to the size of a hamster. Phantom beckoned him closer, and Undergrowth floated into the King’s waiting hand. Phantom clenched his hand, and Undergrowth squeaked as his chest was constrained.

 

It was clear that Phantom had no intention of calming down and was long past talking about it. From the look on Undergrowth’s face, he knew it too.

 

“Spare me,” Undergrowth pleaded, scrabbling at the grip on his body.

 

“No. You know why I won’t?” Phantom’s voice dropped several degrees. “Because you’re _expendable_ to me.”

 

With that, an energy flooded over Undergrowth. His eyes went wide, before his entire form froze over. Phantom let go, and Undergrowth dropped and shattered into a million pieces.

 

“What on earth?” Maddie mumbled. She crouched next to Sam and scrutinized Phantom and the remaining shards of Undergrowth as if he was a new malfunction in one of her prototype ghost hunting inventions.

 

“Help me up,” Sam grunted. There was still a ghost to deal with and, based on Sam’s previous experiences, this one would be more difficult to deal with than Undergrowth.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Phantom rounded on her by the time she was back on her feet.

 

Doing her best to ignore the pounding of her heartbeat in her skull and the memories of the last time she had seen him, she snarked, “My job. Do you not remember how we met?”

 

“You’re an absolute idiot to go after Undergrowth. He’s one of the most powerful ghosts in the Ghost Zone.”

 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Where were you four years ago?” At that, Sam winced and pressed a hand to her stomach. She could feel the stickiness of the blood clinging to her clothes and a wave of nausea twisted her organs into knots.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked roughly, still in argument mode.

 

“I thought that looked a lot like _Nerium oleander_ ,” she muttered to herself. “Trust Undergrowth to make one of the most deadliest plants in the world ten times more deadly.”

 

An excruciating twist in her abdomen robbed her of any chance of continuing, along with any strength in her legs.

 

Familiar arms caught her a second before she was on her knees. “Where are you hurt?” Phantom questioned, an edge to his voice she’d never heard. Lot of different sides to him she was seeing.

 

Maddie was there, checking her pulse. “We need to get you to the hospital,” she said, all business. She pressed a button on her Fenton Phone. “Jack, I need—”

 

“Don’t bother,” Sam rasped. “I—I can feel it; I don’t think I’ll make it that long.”

 

As soon as the word passed her lips, all she could see was the green of Phantom’s eyes. Green? “Like hell you are.”

 

He gathered her in her arms, and the abrupt change in angle and altitude made the world turn blurry. Sam could vaguely hear Maddie protesting. The iciest wind she’d ever felt coated her vision in red until the world faded away.

 

The last thing she heard was his voice saying, “ _Get me Frostbite, now!_ ”

 

* * *

 

“And this is the kitchen,” Ember gestured.

 

Sam surveyed the space curiously. “Not to offend you or anything, but can ghosts even eat?”

 

The ghost brushed a stray strand of flaming hair. “Only if we want to,” she replied. “For celebrations and stuff, sure, but we don’t need it to survive like you humans do.”

 

Sam nodded thoughtfully. As much as she hated that she’d been taken to the Ghost Zone without her consent and was to stay here until whenever Phantom got tired of her staying in his castle, she knew that she had learned more about ghosts and their culture than any living being in all of existence.

 

Sam stared blankly at a crack on the pot hanging over the counter.

 

“What?” Ember said questioningly, breaking Sam out of her thoughts.

 

“Why am I here?” Sam asked plainly.

 

“Sweetie-pop, if you don’t remember how close to death you were—”

 

Sam made an impatient gesture. “No, of course I remember that. But that’s the thing: why the hell didn’t Phantom—”

 

“ _King_ Phantom.”

 

“—let me die?” Ever since Sam had woken up in a cryo-chamber, bandages wrapped along her torso and her lungs breathing easily, and the first thing she had seen was the giant, abominable snowman staring at her through the glass. It quickly became clear that she was no longer in the human world; she was in the Ghost Zone.

 

Cue the ghost yeti bringing her down from an anxiety attack. Weirdest experience ever.

 

Ember absently adjusted the strap of her guitar. Distantly, a part of Sam was noting how Ember was beautiful in a ghostly way. Her pale skin, dark eyeliner, and wild, blue, flaming hair would make a majority of goths swoon, with even some non-goths following right behind them. And given what Youngblood had told Sam, Ember’s powers made Sam’s imagined reactions of the human population pretty accurate.

 

“The King does whatever he wants,” Ember said vaguely. “And he has his reasons for whatever he does.”

 

“And knowing him, his reason is making me suffer,” Sam muttered.

 

They moved on, and Ember let her peek into more rooms. Some were occupied, and Sam was sure to only take the briefest glance before ducking out. It was not uncommon for them to pass ghosts in the hallway; they were usually busy, a few taking the time to nod at Ember, but all ignored Sam completely.

 

“What is everybody doing?” Sam wondered.

 

“Basically keeping the Ghost Zone protected, insurgents in line, and carrying out the King’s orders.”

 

“Are there a lot of threats to the Ghost Zone?” Racking her brain, Sam really couldn’t think of anyone or anything that could be deemed a threat to Phantom. He seemed too...invincible. Him plus Ember and the rest of his Guard? There was no chance.

 

Based on the smirk on her face, Ember agreed with her. “No.”

 

* * *

 

During her nights in the Ghost Zone, Sam had started wandering the halls of the castle, exploring nooks and crannies.

 

The castle was massive, and Sam had yet to find the same hallway twice. Though, one of the rooms she had found was a ginormous library two times the size of Skulk and Lurk that Sam had spent an entire night in, because _ghost books_.

 

But her most amazing discovery didn't come from the castle. It came from tripping over a fold in a rug and, instead of greeting a wall with her face, she _tumbled through it_.

 

_Holy shit, it's like Hanukkah._

 

Because being able to phase through any physical object within the Ghost Zone was really fucking cool. Now, Sam could theoretically scare the bejesus out of Youngblood and Skulker (they truly deserved it after pranking her and Ember), but her access to the castle had expanded tenfold.

 

Since then, she had used her newfound trick to explore further than she'd ever gone before. Some rooms were boring, used for storage and stuff, but others were infinitely cooler. One night, she had phased through a heavily locked door to enter a lab unlike anything she'd ever seen at the Fentons’. Beakers containing ingredients and even creatures floated several feet away, arranged from floor to ceiling with no ladder in sight. Sam guessed that ladders and elevators and such were unnecessary in the Ghost Zone.

 

Another night, she came across something that wasn't as awesome.

 

“Your Grace, with all due respect, this is no longer something that you can ignore.”

 

Alarms blared sharply in Sam’s head. She wheeled backwards sharply, sticking to the shadows of the rooms.

 

She was deep below the ground floor of the castle, and walls here were made of bulging stone instead of the drywall-like material above. With no natural light, the shadows were deeper here, the wall torches barely piercing through the darkness.

 

Around the corner from Sam stood Phantom and an unfamiliar ghost. The ghost looked as if she were prepared for war, with gleaming golden armor over a black robe and a glowing staff in her hand. Her golden helmet spewed purple fire.

 

“There's nothing to ignore,” Phantom snapped at the ghost with him.

 

“Do not fool yourself,” the ghost warned him. “Look at the evidence before you! Sixteen ghosts imprisoned from disobeying your orders not to harm your human. You’ve been lucky she hadn’t encountered any during her time here.”

 

 _Your human_. They were talking about her, Sam realized.

 

“If any decide to disobey my orders while I’m here, then they have to worry about more than just imprisonment.” Phantom’s tone had Sam flashing back to when he had his hand at her throat. A shiver ran down her spine from the memory.

 

“Your Grace,” Phantom’s companion grew impatient, “there is a simple solution to this: send her back.”

 

“Pandora,” Phantom warned.

 

“She is well enough. Frostbite has assured you that the poison is out of her system. She can go home.”

 

_What?_

 

Anger began bubbling in the pit of Sam’s stomach.

 

“She stays here. I don’t want to hear about this again, Pandora.”

 

_Oh, we’ll see about that._

 

* * *

 

Sam marched straight to him, and slapped him straight across the face.

 

Then, she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.

 

Like all of the kisses they’d shared so far, it was hot and addictive, bordering on filthy. Phantom tugged her by the hips until their bodies were lined up, his thigh between her legs. All the while, her hands wandered over his body, exploring the planes and ridges of his chest and stomach.

 

Eventually, Sam broke the kiss to gasp for air, and Phantom brushed his lips down her jaw.

 

“Off,” she demanded, pushing at his shirt, needing to taste his skin.

 

He shuddered at the feel of her hands skimming his body, trying to find the opening to his jumpsuit. He guided her to the zipper and helped her tug it down to his waist. Moving from her favorite spot between his neck and collarbone, she trailed her lips down to his nipple. Her tongue circled around it, then moved lower to trace the lines of his abs. They clenched and flexed under her.

 

“Samantha,” he warned, his voice tight.

 

Gleeful at his response and the way he curled his tongue around the syllables of her name, Sam moved to lick a path along the tantalizing trail of the V of his hips, so close to where he wanted her most, before moving back up to play with his other nipple.

 

“Fuck,” he snarled, and the vibrations from her chuckles caused his hands to move between them, pulling her shirt over her head with impatient fingers.

 

Far too pleased at having him right where she wanted, she ignored his efforts and focused back on the sight before her. By the time she sucked a hickey into the left side of his hip, Phantom’s control was completely torn to shreds.

 

He bent down to grasp her waist and hauled her back up to him. He kissed her hard, his need exciting her. She kissed back, her legs naturally winding around his waist and shifting her hips around his hardening cock.

 

He lowered her onto the bed, then quickly got to work discarding her clothing. Soon, he was repeating the same ministrations she had done only minutes before, and she moaned at the fire he stroked inside her.

 

“Do you have any idea,” he grit out, teasing at the spot on her thigh that shorted out her brain and made warmth pool between her legs. Her hips raised of their own volition. “...what you do to me whenever you get angry at me?”

 

“Make you realize the error of your ways?”

 

He nipped her skin in retaliation. “No. I start thinking about all the other ways I could make you that flushed, panting and screaming at me.”

 

Her breath caught at the images his words evoked. Her hips rocked against his.

 

“You are… so passionate,” Phantom murmured, looking half drunk as he watched her undulate when he tweaked her nipples. Her legs were now completely spread, her core desperate for his touch. “About everything you do.” His nose brushed her stomach, then went down… and down. _Oh God, was he—_

 

The first press of his tongue to her center had her hands immediately grasping his hair, her back bowing under the sensations. “Oh, fuck.”

 

He did it again, and Sam screwed her eyes shut as he set to take her apart piece by piece. He sunk one finger into her, his mouth still worrying on her clit, then two.

 

Too many sensations sent her deeper into delirium. Her entire body became one taut wire of arousal, until his fingers hit that perfect spot inside her, and then she was _coming_. Hard.

 

He was still stroking her thighs when she finally came back to herself. He made sure that she was present, then he was there, sinking in, and _oh_.

 

* * *

 

Sam was still catching her breath when she could hear the vibrations of his voice saying carefully, “I’ve been wondering for a while…”

 

She tilted her head up on his chest to see the line of his jaw and throat. She had never heard him put so much thought into his words before. “What?” she questioned.

 

“When you were hunting Undergrowth,” Phantom said slowly, and Sam couldn’t help but tense, the high from her orgasms fading away, “it sounded like he personally knew you. And you did too. Like, you had some history.”

 

In any other situation, she would’ve laughed at how awkward and human he sounded. “We did,” she acknowledged reluctantly.

 

It was so obvious how much he wanted to ask in the way he shifted underneath her, his hands never settling on one place on her skin. She blindly reached back, pressing them still, and sighed. Phantom was too curious not to just let this go; he was going to find out eventually.

 

Determined not to see his face when she told him this story, she spoke into his skin. “The first time Undergrowth came to conquer the human world, I was a sophomore in high school. Even though it was only a few years ago, ghost hunting wasn’t as good or as technologically advanced back then as it is now. Amity quickly lost to Undergrowth, and everyone was taken over. Including me.”

 

His hold on her tightened. She continued distantly, “In some ways, I was lucky. A good majority of people were killed immediately, but because I had a particular distaste for urban blight and human-caused global warming, Undergrowth believed I could be put to better use.

 

“So, instead, he invaded my mind and…molded it into his image.” Her fingers curled into fists at the memory. “I became the Caretaker, loyal only to my ‘father,’ the plant ghost himself, who was dedicated to caring for plant life and considered humans to be disgusting meat bags that were only useful for sustenance or labor. I ordered my neighbors, my classmates, even my own parents like dogs, and punished them cruelly, with a kind of pleasure.”

 

He spoke up at the bitter loathing in her voice. “That’s not your fault,” he said firmly. She could sense how he was struggling to restrain the dark energy rippling through him, his wrath running hot under his skin.

 

“I know,” Sam snapped at him tiredly. It had taken months of therapy that her parents had forced her to attend to realize that, but it didn't mean that she didn’t hate that she did it. Not wanting to dwell on it anymore, she charged through with the rest of the story. “Anyway, the only reason Undergrowth didn’t win was because of Maddie Fenton. She managed to avoid the Mind Vine that had taken over the town and developed a weapon that actually managed to hurt Undergrowth. She freed me from his control, and we managed to stuff him into a Fenton Thermos.”

 

“It’s amazing that the two of you managed to defeat a ghost that powerful,” Phantom commented. She had earned the admiration of The Ghost King. Even though his respect didn’t validate her in any way, Sam still felt a sliver of smug pride. And her parents kept on saying that ghost hunting made you dishonorable, unrespected, and a social outcast.

 

She was always realistic, though. “We won, but just barely. Undergrowth made me realize how screwed humans were if we didn’t step up and _do_ something about it. So I asked Maddie to train me in ghost hunting.”

 

“And here you are,” he concluded.

 

Here she was. In the Ghost Zone, in bed with The Ghost King himself.

 

She was moving before even consciously thinking about it. Cool air raising goosebumps on her skin, Sam snatched her clothes from the floor, pulling a sweatshirt over her head and crossing to the bathroom.

 

He caught her just before she could cross through the door. “What’s wrong?” He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear.

 

“Oh, nothing in particular,” she said sarcastically. “Just thinking about how I am betraying my ideals and even all of humanity by being here in the Ghost Zone, sleeping with His Royal Highness himself, and not trying to escape or save my world from future domination and/or destruction.”

 

Phantom pulled away sharply. “I didn’t see you complaining ten minutes ago,” he snapped.

 

Any warm feelings had dissipated, leaving only a bubbling irritation. “What are you doing?” Sam burst out. “What is this? Is this some sick game where you lure the human girl to your world and play with her before killing her, or, like, enslaving and torturing her for your amusement?”

 

“If I wanted to do any of that, I could have picked a human that was…less you.”

 

Less bullheaded, intelligent, and opinionated, he meant. It was a fair point, but it still didn’t clear up this whole mess.

 

“But what do you gain from all of this?” Sam gestured to them, in this room, the bed still unmade. “You gain nothing from saving my life; I can’t give you anything that thousands, if not millions, of other people can give you.”

 

“You’re different.”

 

“ _How?_ ”

 

Phantom made a complicated face. “You just are! And why are you so focused on me? What are your reasons?”

 

Her reasons should have been that she was gaining valuable intel, that she was taking down all ghosts from the inside. But they weren’t, and she was desperately trying not to think of the real reasons why she was here, and _why couldn’t he have just left her alone in the first place?_ “None of your business.”

 

“You don’t have one, do you?” he said bluntly.

 

“Of course I do!” she said defensively.

 

“Then what is it?”

 

“I’m not telling _you_ my reasons.”

 

“Because you don’t have any!”

 

“No!”

 

“Don’t pretend that we’re not in the same boat together!”

 

“I am the furthest thing from pretending!” Sam shouted. “I am fully aware that what I’m doing is wrong and terrible and that I shouldn’t even want to be in the same dimension as you, let alone touching and—” She refused to continue that sentence. “So don’t you dare try and act like we’re in this together.”

 

And with that, she stormed out of his room.

 

* * *

 

Sam made no effort to pay attention to where she was going, too angry to do anything but spew vitriolic mutterings. So many emotions churned within her and, embarrassingly enough, she could actually feel tears welling up in her eyes. Frantically rubbing them away, she stopped and forced herself to find somewhere dark and empty to hide and wallow, but to her dark amusement, she had no idea where she was.

 

Looking around at her clearly foreign and ghostlike surroundings, Sam had never wished for home more.

 

“Lost, child?”

 

She really needed to stop startling when ghosts snuck up on her. Honestly, she should be expecting it now. And why did every single ghost she met have to call her child? Well, except Phantom. Sam winced and squashed that line of thought.

 

She eyed the unfamiliar ghost warily. Appearance-wise, he was the oldest ghost she’d ever seen, with a long, greying beard, wrinkles, and a hunched back. The cloak, hood, and staff gave him a mysterious, wise aura that reminded her of her _bubbe_.

 

“I’m okay, thanks,” she responded, polite but still suspicious. No matter how vulnerable or innocent a ghost looked, they were still capable of doing a lot of damage.

 

He floated past her to gaze at one of the paintings hanging on the wall. Between one second and the next, he shifted, and suddenly she was watching a small ghost child stare up at the artwork.

 

Sam blinked rapidly, but the kid was still there.

 

“Curious,” the ghost said in the same deep, resonating voice he’d had when he was really old, “how this castle has stood the test of time, still bearing old marks and blemishes.”

 

She glanced briefly at a downright terrifying figure in an eyepatch in the painting. “What makes it so surprising that this castle is unchanged?”

 

“Changes of regimes often causes much history—especially art—to be lost,” he replied, now a fully grown adult, clean-shaven and healthy.

 

That piqued her interest. “Someone ruled the Ghost Zone before Phantom?” she asked incredulously. In all of her lessons on the history of the Ghost Zone, there was always one constant: Phantom was The Ghost King, and The Ghost King was Phantom. There was never even a hint of a king before Phantom.

 

“Long ago,” he clarified, “the ghost Pariah Dark ruled. His reign was feared by all ghosts, and he led ghosts with an iron fist. He was the most powerful ghost in existence…until another came and chose to end Pariah’s domination.”

 

_Phantom._

 

“It was just as well,” the ghost mused. “Pariah threatened all ghosts opposing him by terrorizing their ancras.”

 

“Ancras?” she repeated.

 

“It is an old word, not used as often anymore. You might be more familiar with its colloquial version, obsession.”

 

He continued, not seeing Sam’s stunned expression. “I am not particularly fond of the term; it does not truly encompass the significance of an ancra.”

 

“And what is the true significance?” She desperately hoped he didn’t get suspicious of her intentions and clam up.

 

The look in his eyes remained through his shift from fully grown to elderly. There was a moment of silent speculation from him, and just when Sam figured he had seen through her innocent act, he was speaking. “The two natural states of existence act as two sides of a coin. Since the dawn of time, the cycle of being has existed: life, then death. There are no shortcuts and no changing the flow of the cycle.

 

“Ghosts defy the natural cycle. We exist in a state of death on the living plane. It’s a phenomenon that shouldn’t be possible; any soul that tries to stay in the living plane can’t hold on. It’s only if a soul has an anchor—something or someone that keeps them grounded on the living plane—then they can exist outside of the natural cycle.”

 

“Which is where the stereotype of a ghostly obsession came from,” Sam realized out loud. “Ghosts can get irrational or destructive, but they’re not mindlessly fixated for no reason; they literally rely on their obsessions to survive.”

 

Sam felt as if the floor had dropped from under her. If everything she had learned about ghosts had been pennies, this was a goldmine, filled to the brim with precious stones and metals. If she brought this knowledge back, it would change everything humans knew and would know about ghosts. It would significantly impact future human-ghost interactions. They would be able to foresee and prevent so many disasters by knowing what a ghost’s ancra was.

 

Which begged the question… “Why are you telling me this?” she said suspiciously. “Who are you?”

 

“I am Clockwork, the Ghost of Time.”

 

Well, that explained the rapid change in age. “You mean you can see the future?”

 

“I see all futures,” he corrected. “I see what could happen, every twist and turn.”

 

That made him even more powerful than Undergrowth. She shifted uneasily. “Then, again, why tell me about the very reason why ghosts—even you—exist? Your Achilles’ heel?”

 

At that, his child form gave her a buck-toothed grin. “In time, you will know.”

 

He bowed to her. “A pleasure meeting you, My Queen.”

 

_Wait, what?_

 

“I believe it’s time to send you home.” He pressed a button on his staff, and the last thing she saw was Clockwork, before everything vanished in a swirl of purple smoke.

 

* * *

 

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve seen this many books in one room outside of the library.”

 

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Sam eventually managed to focus on the newcomer’s face. “Oh my gosh, Tucker!”

 

She lunged at him for a hug, and he stumbled back a step. “Oof! Nice to see you too,” he choked. “Um, could you let me breathe, please?”

 

Sam released him and took in the red beanie and thick-framed glasses covering smiling eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her best friend. “What are you doing here?”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Um, hello? Have you been paying attention this past week? I was a little concerned when the police showed up at my door and asked me if I’d seen my BFF at all since we left for summer break. Did I forget to mention the fact that you were _kidnapped by The Ghost King_ and _went missing for two weeks?!_ ”

 

It wasn’t like anyone was letting her forget. Her parents had been frantic the entire time, thinking she had died. Once she had reappeared, she had been subjected to every test known to science and interrogated for hours. Sam honestly suspected that her parents might want to put a tracking device on her in a day or two.

 

“Seriously, Sam.” The humor in Tucker’s voice faded away, replaced with real concern. “Are you okay?”

 

Sam blew out a shaky breath. She had the urge to blow him off like she’d done with everyone else since she’d gotten back, but if she wasn’t honest with Tucker, then who else could she be honest with? “No,” she admitted, “I don’t think I am.”

 

They both sat down, and Tucker leaned forward, his focus entirely on her. “Tell me,” he encouraged.

 

She swallowed tightly. She laid a hand on the book open in front of her. “Since I’ve gotten back, I’ve been trying to do research. I needed to confirm something I’d learned while in the Ghost Zone.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I found out the reason why ghosts exist.”

 

Tucker’s face slackened in stunned disbelief.

 

“What?”

 

“Clockwork told me—”

 

“Wait, wait, back up. Who’s Clockwork?”

 

“The Ghost of Time. Anyway, he told me—”

 

“Hold on a second!” Tuck’s voice rose an octave. “You’re telling me that there’s a Ghost of Time?”

 

“Tucker, that’s not the important part!” she said impatiently. “Let me finish—”

 

“Oh, well, if that’s not the important part. Please, go ahead.”

 

Rolling her eyes, half in irritation and half in fond amusement, she continued, “He told me that the only reason ghosts exist was because of their obsessions. He called them ancras. They keep ghosts anchored to the physical plane; if they’re harmed in any way, the ghost will go insane and destroy everything in its path, fade out of this plane, or both.”

 

She tapped the spine of a book from one of the stacks. “There are legends that if a ghost has a person as an ancra, and if that person dies and becomes a ghost, then their ancras are the other ghost. They’re each other’s ancras.”

 

It took a while for Tucker to digest that. “That’s…huge,” he said quietly. “It wouldn’t just change ghost hunting, it would change how we think of ghosts and how we treat them. It would change how the entire world functions.”

 

“Yeah. It would.” Sam stared at a piece of lint clinging to the collar of Tucker’s shirt.

 

“What did the Guys in White tell you about the ‘acas’ or whatever?”

 

“It’s ancras, and—” Her face twisted into a grimace. “I didn’t tell them.”

 

“ _What?_ Sam, why?” His eyes searched her face for an explanation.

 

 _Oh, god, she was going to tell him_. Her arms were wrapped around herself and she knew that she had to tell him, but there was a weight inside her, crushing her insides.

 

“Sam.” Apparently, she was pretty transparent in her terror, because Tucker seemed to have forgotten his outrage and was back to concerned and supportive best friend. “What is it?”

 

She fixed her gaze on the piles of research in front of her. “I’ve been looking into everything we have about Phantom,” she began haltingly. “Every report, every history book, even the mythological accounts from thousands of years ago. And even with thousands of years of accounts and stories, there’s no hint of any object or place or person that could’ve been his obsession.”

 

“Maybe it’s in the Ghost Zone,” Tucker suggested. “I mean, it’s probably safer to have your obsession in your own dimension.”

 

Sam was already shaking her head. “It can’t be. If it were a place, then he physically couldn’t move it into his home turf—not without us knowing about it. If it were a person, then they’d have died thousands of years ago and the entire Earth would be decimated. And if it were an object, well, I would’ve seen it at some point while I was with him.” He had shown no particular interest in any one thing the entire time she’d been with him; there was no way he had an object ancra.

 

“Okay…” he said slowly. “So what does this have to do with your reason to not tell anyone about ancras?”

 

“Before he sent me back to the human world, Clockwork said, ‘A pleasure meeting you, My Queen.’”

 

There was a moment of silence, then, “No fucking way.”

 

“So, yeah. That’s why I didn’t tell them.”

 

“You’re joking, right? There’s no way you could be The Ghost King’s obsession—”

 

“I think I am,” she whispered. It explained everything—why he decided to follow her everywhere after meeting her, why he had become so irrationally protective of her when she had been in danger and hurt. It also, admittedly, explained the electricity that was always between them, the sexual tension that was so strong that she couldn’t help but give in. It explained why, in all the moments when he was angry with her, in all the moments when she defied him, he didn’t kill her. He never even hurt her.

 

What’s more, it explained why she was so protective of _him_ , why even the mention of a threat against him had something dark and unforgiving rear its head.

 

Tucker still didn’t buy it. “It can’t be. For one, if what you’re saying about ancras are true, how did he survive several millennia without one?”

 

“I don’t know! I only know what Clockwork told me and what I’ve read.”

 

“Then you could be wrong.”

 

Deep down, Sam knew that she wasn’t wrong, but she still said, “Yes, I could be wrong. But if I’m right, and I told the Guys in White…”

 

“You’d lose everything,” Tucker finished for her, coming to the same conclusion she had. “You’d become a bargaining chip, something the human race would use to force The Ghost King to leave them alone. And then—”

 

“Phantom would destroy everything to protect his ancra, and they wouldn’t stand a chance. All of humanity would be decimated.”

 

Tucker swallowed, clearly not liking the picture being painted. “Okay, I see your point,” he allowed, “but that’s under the assumption that you’re his ancra in the first place.”

 

“Then help me figure out how to know for sure,” she beseeched. “Because I’d really like to know if I’m tied to a ghost for all eternity.”

 

He opened and closed his mouth. Then, his jaw jutted out. “Tucker Foley, at your service.”

 

He pulled out the PDA she’d never seen him without, and began tapping away.

 

* * *

  

“How bad is it?” Phantom asked Frostbite.

 

The yeti was frowning. “Worse than we hoped, I fear.”

 

Phantom didn’t seem all that surprised by that answer. He critically surveyed the map engraved in the table. “How bad?”

 

“Vortex, Nocturn, and the Fright Knight,” Pandora said from her place to the left of Phantom. She curled one of her right hands into a fist. “Traitors.”

 

“Is anyone really surprised with them turning their back on the crown?” Ember asked rhetorically. “Pumpkin Head has always been bitter about losing his place as second after Pariah was overthrown; Snoozles is bitter because he’s forbidden from putting the human population to sleep; and Vortex is...Vortex.”

 

“I’m afraid my dear brother has also pledged his allegiance to the halfa,” Dora told Phantom. She looked like she was struggling between anger and bitter resignation, “as well as Walker.”

 

“Now the Little Prince and Mr. Rules just have too big a stick up their asses,” Ember reasoned with a feral smirk.

 

“With such strong allies, Vlad Plasmius and his attempt for the throne will be more difficult to overcome. We must not underestimate the halfa,” Frostbite warned. “There is a chance we need to prepare for war.”

 

A surge of power sucker-punched Sam in the chest from her spot in the corner. Torches on the wall flared three feet higher. The castle rumbled.

 

In the center of it all, The Ghost King stood tall, his snowy hair as unruly and wild as Ember’s flames.

 

“Plasmius already declared war when he decided to go after my ancra,” Phantom spoke with an edge to his voice. “If Wulf hadn’t been guarding Sam in the human world and brought her back, Samantha would already be dead.”

 

Sam sucked in a breath. She had been right. The admission had her stomach doing flips and her heart beating frantically.

 

The King’s Guard expressed no sign of surprise despite the unexpected announcement. Sam had a feeling that in any other situation, Ember would be teasing them mercilessly right now.

 

“Send Skulker in,” Phantom commanded. “I need my General. It’s time to plan our strategy in crushing Plasmius and his followers.”

 

* * *

 

Unable to keep herself quiet, Sam sank her teeth into his shoulder to muffle her moans. He had moved her legs up over his shoulders, and he was hitting that one spot inside her that was slowly driving her insane.

 

He drew away far enough so that she couldn’t reach him. “No,” Phantom panted, “I want to hear you.” He went on to graze her nipple with his teeth.

 

Irritatingly, she couldn’t help the strangled noise from escaping her mouth. She tightened her hold on him, and his breath caught. Ignoring the trembling of her muscles that begged her to continue letting him fuck her like he wouldn’t survive without it, she pushed at him until he was lying on the bed and she was straddling his stomach. Reining in the desire to sink down and move until the pleasure crackled throughout her entire body, she slowly welcomed him inside her, inch by inch.

 

He tried to rush, to buck up into her, but each time he did, she slid forward and started over. Pupils blown and his hands unable to stop moving across her skin, he growled, “Samantha…”

 

“Sam,” she corrected him with a twist of her hips that had them both shuddering. “Stop calling me Samantha; only my parents call me that.”

 

And then he was sitting up so that their chests were pressed together and their faces inches apart. “I really hope that you’re not thinking about your parents right now.” He wound one arm around her back and thrust and no, she wasn’t thinking about her parents, not even close and _fuck_ , she was close.

 

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop.” Desperately, she brought her hand to furiously rub at her clit. Phantom was murmuring nonsense against her neck, his movements becoming irregular.

 

They came one second after another. Sam was first, tingles of pleasure filling her veins. She clenched around him, and he moaned, “Sam” before coming sharply.

 

Still boneless and unable to move, Sam let him shift her until she was sprawled across the bed and he was resting on her. His head lay between her breasts, just above her heart.

 

Without even consciously thinking about her, her hand was up and brushing through the strands of his hair right above his neck.

 

She broke the silence first. “I am okay, you know,” she said softly.

 

“I know. Logically, I know.” He turned his head so that he rested his chin on her sternum and he could look at her face. “Just…give me a minute.”

 

“We have to talk. About Vlad…about this.”

 

“We will,” he said, with no intention of backing out. “And Saman—Sam, I want to warn you. I’m going to be doing whatever is necessary to keep you safe and the ghosts under my rule free from Vlad Plasmius. The option that best guarantees that might not be the one you like, but it will be the one that I choose. Because you are my ancra.”

 

She had a feeling that he was right, she thought with a kind of resignation, but at least he was being honest and clear with her. “We will talk about it and decide _together_ ,” she said firmly, refusing to budge on this.

 

He conceded with a slow nod. “We’ll talk to Frostbite and Clockwork.”

 

* * *

 

Sam wiped sweaty palms onto her dress.

 

“You will be alright,” Frostbite reassured her. “There is nothing to worry about.”

 

She laughed hysterically. “How do you know?”

 

“Because you are the strongest human I’ve met,” he said. “You will be able to survive the ring, and you will adapt. What’s more, there will be many eager to assist you—King Phantom, his Guard, Clockwork, myself. You will not be alone in this transition.”

 

“I just...I’m still not sure why this is necessary.”

 

“It would not be, were it not for Vlad Plasmius and his attempt to take the throne. The halfa is ruthless to his enemies, and now that your existence has been revealed, he will do anything to exploit you and your relationship with His Grace. With this coronation ceremony, not only will your title provide protection, but you will be better able to protect yourself. It is the best defense against Plasmius and his supporters. I would not have suggested this if there was a better way.”

 

Sam blew out a breath. “But won’t Phantom be weaker? He is giving me some of his power.”

 

“On the contrary. The combined power of the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire was not meant to be possessed by an individual alone. They were created as separate objects to be shared.”

 

She frowned. “Wait, a crown and a ring?”

 

“They are the symbols of The Ghost King, and The Ghost King’s power. King Phantom keeps them within himself.”

 

Huh. She had no idea that there were objects that had to do with his power. “And giving one of them to me will do what?”

 

“It will remove the weight of the burden from wearing them together, allowing each of you to fully embrace the full potential of each object. Additionally, because you are each other’s ancra, you will be able to borrow the abilities and power of the other.”

 

“Does that mean I’ll have the power of The Ghost King at my fingertips?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

_Holy shit._

 

Suddenly, the sounds of an electric guitar could be heard blasting behind the heavy doors in front of them.

 

“It is time,” Frostbite said. “Are you ready?”

 

 _No._ “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

 

The doors opened to reveal a large throne room. It was grand with stone walls and wooden pillars and a crystal ceiling. Very few people occupied the room; Phantom said that he wanted as few people as possible attending to keep word from getting out. Only Ember, who was playing the guitar, the rest of Phantom’s Guard, and the Observants were there.

 

And Phantom, of course. He stood before them all, wearing armor over his jumpsuit. It matched her armored dress perfectly.

 

Sam blinked and suddenly she was there, only a step between her and Phantom. One of the Ancients stood between them.

 

Words echoed distantly between her ears. They were the oaths she was to swear to uphold: protecting the Ghost Zone and its inhabitants with all her power for the rest of her existence. She heard herself say yes.

 

And then Phantom held his hand out in front of him. His eyes furrowed as he concentrated and a ring flickered into existence onto his ring finger. The ring was bright green, its head black, and a matching green skull insignia with red eyes stood against the dark color. Phantom pulled it off, and the pressure around her lungs that she hadn’t even realized was there deflated slightly as his presence lessened.

 

His gaze snapped to her and he reached for her hand. Sam stared at it. She raised her head to look at him. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were softer than she’d ever seen. And she remembered his words the other night.

 

She placed her hand in his. She felt the warm metal slide onto her finger.

 

Her senses exploded, and Sam doubled over, gasping. She felt like energy was being poured into her body and her skin was about to burst from it.

 

She breathed out and, mind scrambling to catch up with the changes, she inexplicably _knew_ she could feel the Ghost Zone. She knew where every door within its borders led, every inhabitant, every shift of the dimension.

 

When Sam finally became certain that she wasn’t going to explode from the power, she straightened slowly. Still disoriented, she wobbled.

 

Solid support on her back steadied her.

 

“All hail the Ghost Queen!”

 

* * *

 

“Fuck,” Sam cursed as her shot went wild, freezing a tree.

 

“Better than freezing Klemper,” Phantom replied mildly.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Sam grumbled. Ever since she’d been given the Ring of Rage, Phantom had taken time out of his days to teach her how to harness her new ghost powers so she could defend herself. It was...spotty work.

 

“This is honestly going to take forever. I’ve only gotten the hang of how many powers? Two? Three? Out of the hundreds that I can potentially do? Seriously, you’re better off handing me a bazooka instead.”

 

“Look, the more of your abilities that you master, the easier it’ll be to figure out the others.”

 

“Oh, and you remember from your crisp memories of doing this several thousand years ago?” Sam said sarcastically.

 

Phantom gave her a droll look. “Focus on your ice core. Channel it so that it can only escape through your hand. _Tell_ it where it’s going to go.”

 

She sighed, but nodded and closed her eyes in concentration. It had taken several days to get used to her ghostly cores—pure ecto-energy and ice—let alone manipulate them. She singled out the little ball under her sternum that made tingles reminding her of snowflakes brushing her skin. She tightened her grip on it, feeling it push against her hold. She allowed a small opening, and the energy eagerly took the opportunity, spilling out. She then directed the overflow to her shoulder, down her arm, to the palm of her hand…

 

Sam opened her eyes to see her hand glowing blue. Narrowing her eyes at the target, she put all her thoughts to that mark, willing with all her might.

 

She released the energy, and the ice beam hit the target dead center. Ice consumed the entire dummy, forming a shell several inches thick.

 

Sam whooped, her fist coming up to punch the air. Victory felt sweet.

 

“Nice job.”

 

 _What—_ Sam gaped at Phantom.

 

“What?” he said.

 

Scrunching her face, Sam shook her head. “Nothing.” She was just unused to Phantom giving her compliments. She almost had an urge to ask if he’d hit his head during his tumble with the Fright Knight.

 

He seemed to find it too troublesome to pry, because he only said, “Now do it again, but with your eyes.”

 

Sam groaned. She’d been at it for two hours now, and she was bone tired. “I’m still waiting for the answer to my question.”

 

“What question?” Amusement colored Phantom’s voice as he raised an eyebrow.

 

“About whether you remember learning how to deal with your ghost powers.”

 

He hesitated for a second. “Yeah, I do.”

 

Catching the change in mood, she studied him. She asked carefully, “Do you remember anything before?”

 

“No,” he said curtly.

 

“Right.” Sam gave a short nod. Awkwardness now filled the entire space between them. She started backing away, until she gave up all pretense and just started walking back to the castle.

 

“I only remember one thing.”

 

Phantom’s voice had Sam stopping right before the entrance.

 

Very deliberately, Sam didn’t look at him, her face calm despite the whirlwind in her head.

 

“My name when I was human,” Phantom said. “I don’t know why it’s stuck with me for so long, but…”

 

He cleared his throat. “The best translation in today’s English would be Danny.”

 

“Danny,” Sam repeated. She smiled, then went into the castle.

 

* * *

 

Connor Lobo’s first day at Berkeley wasn’t going as bad as he thought it would go.

 

For one, he’d managed to get to all his classes on time. His professors seemed fair and none of them screamed trouble yet. Also, he hadn’t gotten lost like he’d expected; he had the shittiest sense of direction and had been resigned to not knowing where the hell he was.

 

That last part was mostly due to his second cousin Robbie, a junior and a decent enough guy to meet with the cousin he barely knew to show him around and give him advice. He was even taking Connor to his favorite dining hall and giving him tips.

 

“Never ever get the fish from here,” Robbie told him, “unless you see that Jim made it. Anything Jim makes is solid. Also, make sure you come here every Friday for lunch; Chicken Finger Friday is not something you wanna miss.”

 

“Got it.”

 

Something caught Robbie’s eye over Connor’s shoulder. The junior swore under his breath and sank lower into his seat.

 

“What is it?” Connor moved to turn around to look when Robbie grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

 

“Don’t look,” he hissed.

 

Curious, Connor guessed, “Ex?”

 

“God, I wish,” Still eyeing behind him like there was a shark circling them, Robbie muttered, “No, it’s Sam Manson.”

 

“Who?”

 

Robbie broke his stare to look incredulously at Connor. “Please tell me you knew about Sam Manson before coming here.”

 

His blank stare caused his cousin to groan loudly.

 

“What?” Connor said defensively. “You know I didn’t really have a reason to research schools.” He was strictly a scholarship student, very much in need of any financial aid offered, and Cal was the only school that had offered a full scholarship to him. Plus, really cheap off-campus housing. So he hadn’t bothered looking into the school at all.

 

“Okay, yeah, but—” Robbie’s teeth snapped shut. He sighed explosively. “The chick that everyone’s staring at is Sam Manson.”

 

He tried to peek behind him. Sure enough, every single person in the dining hall was not-so-subtly gawking at some goth-looking woman with striking, violet eyes. Impressively, she didn’t seem to notice the attention on her, chatting with the only person not treating her like a mutated frog, an African American guy with a beanie and that high tech, newly released phone. They looked like normal college students getting lunch.

 

He turned back to Robbie with a raised eyebrow. “And?”

 

“ _And_ she’s the one who married The Ghost King. Please tell me you heard about that, at least.”

 

He had. Everyone had. No one had missed the story of a human woman—a former ghost hunter—who had turned her back on her world and race and married The Ghost King. The human woman who had become The Ghost Queen.

 

_The Ghost Queen was an undergrad at Berkeley?_

 

“She had been a student before meeting Phantom.” Apparently, Connor had asked that out loud. “After it came out what she’d done, the school and a bunch of students and staff protested, trying to get her kicked out. Then, The Ghost King intervened, and they started scrambling to roll out the welcome mat for her.” Robbie stabbed his pasta with a little more force than necessary. “It’s all such bullshit, how they let her stay here. Thankfully, she only has one more year, and then the Ghost Lover will be in the Ghost Zone where she belongs.”

 

With new eyes, Connor studied The Ghost Queen. It was so strange; she seemed like a regular college student, making a disgusted face at her friend stuffing his face full of ribs. She didn’t seem particularly ghostly, and (besides the goth look) Connor wouldn’t have had a reason to give her a second glance if he’d passed her on the street.

 

His musings were interrupted by a loud crash. A group of people in masks with large ghost weapons and regular human guns had barged into the hall.

 

“Go to hell, fucking Ghost Whore!” One of them yelled at Sam Manson, and then the masks were aiming at her. It was obvious that they didn’t give a rat’s ass about all the other students, who were very much civilians and would get hurt, if not killed.

 

Distantly, Connor felt Robbie grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back and shouting something at him. He could only focus on Manson narrowing her eyes at the insurgents and her friend looking at her worriedly.

 

Something swelled, ancient and powerful and undeniable, and even as Connor was clutching his chest to somehow protect against it, a green glow filled the air. Each of the masked figures cried out and dropped their weapons. The metal sizzled even as it clattered to the ground.

 

Manson’s hand was still glowing green with power. She was standing tall against her potential assassins, and Connor took everything he said about her appearing like an ordinary woman back because fuck, no one ordinary could disarm half a dozen people and suspend them in the air, trapped, with a wave of her hand. Adding to the eerie chill, she looked like she had started playing a game of Ouija and was unimpressed with everyone else’s performance.

 

“If anyone wants to leave,” Manson announced, her voice clear and unafraid, “now would be a good time to do it.”

 

That was more than enough permission for most people. It became something very close to a stampede, some bringing their belongings with them, others more worried about themselves. More than a few chairs were overturned in the scramble.

 

When it was finally over, only a handful of bystanders remained, half of which included Robbie and Connor. The third was a girl who was recording the whole thing, and the fourth a guy who was sleeping through the entire thing.

 

Deeming that it was as empty as the room was going to get, Manson finally addressed the bound group. “Look, I’m sure you had a perfectly good reason to kill me, or send me to the Ghost Zone, or whatever it is you were planning to do. But, I’d appreciate it if you tried to attack me when I’m alone, away from other people who might get hurt.”

 

“Stop trying to demonize us, Ghost Lover,” one of them snarled at her. “Ghosts have ruined our lives and you’ve sided with the monsters that will kill us all!”

 

“Which one?” Manson asked, and the guy blinked once.

 

“Uh, what?”

 

“Which ghost ruined your life? I’m assuming that it was only one ghost and that you know the ghost’s name, but I found that most of the ghosts I know work alone and love their monologues.”

 

“The fuck would me giving you the name of the ghost change anything? You’ll still be the traitor bitch who spreads her legs to a ghost for a little action.”

 

“Dude,” Manson’s friend said in disapproval, “not cool.” He tapped on his phone, then reported to Manson, “His name is Caleb Chang and his family’s home was destroyed by Vortex three years ago.”

 

“Of course it was Vortex,” Manson sighed at the same time as the guy exclaimed, “How do you know my name?”

 

“Dude, next time you try to commit an act of murder, don’t put on your masks right in front of the building you’re going to attack, where there are security cameras. Oh, and the others are Cameron Reeves, Priya Chopra, Will Stafford, and Tori Carillo, and they were also affected by the same Vortex attack.”

 

Manson groaned. “Okay, that’s it. _Vortex, come here. Now_.”

 

There was another shudder of power before the air next to her split and a form was flying out of it. A ghost with lightning sparking from its eyes and a tornado for a tail grinned madly. It didn’t notice Manson.

 

“Free!” it crowed. “Free!”

 

“Hold it, buster,” Manson’s eyes glimmered, and then a bubble of energy formed around the ghost.

 

“HOW DAR—Your Majesty!” It bowed hastily. “To what do I owe this summons?”

 

“Is it true that you destroyed—what city was it, Tuck?”

 

“Tucson.”

 

“Is it true that you destroyed the city Tucson a couple years ago?”

 

“I…well…”

 

Connor had never seen anyone roll their eyes as hard as Sam Manson at that ghost. She turned back to Caleb. “What’s the progress on reconstruction in Tucson?”

 

It seemed like what was happening had broken his brain, likely because Caleb hadn’t exactly been expecting his target of hatred and blame to summon the ghost who had actually ruined his life and ask about reconstruction efforts.

 

“Tucker?”

 

“They have plans for reconstruction, but a lot of it was put on hold due to lack of funding and many of the homes destroyed have yet to be rebuilt.”

 

“Right. Vortex, we’ve talked about this. You are perfectly valid to show the world the power of your storms, but you’re under the saying, ‘You break it, you buy it.’ Meaning, you’re going to spend some quality time helping all residents of Tucson with repairs.”

 

Vortex swelled in outrage, and the smell of ozone filled the air. “How dare you—”

 

“How dare I?” She got right in the enraged spectre’s face. “I’ll remind you what happened last time you tried to oppose me and the King. What happened to Vlad Plasmius when he tried to take the throne, and you helped him?”

 

Her voice lowered. “You are extremely lucky that Phantom and I agreed to give you a second chance. Screw it up, and we’ll be debating whether we should lock you up again…or worse.”

 

Vortex gnashed his teeth, but was soon bowing. “Your will is my command, my Queen.”

 

“Good. I’ll call Tucson’s mayor, tell her what to expect. You’re going to go with Caleb, Cameron, Priya, Will, and Tori and repair their homes first.” She waved a hand, and then there was a lot of swearing as the stunned group unexpectedly were released from their bindings and dropped.

 

“Oh, and before you go,” Sam rushed to her bag. “I have a draft proposal for a new Act that would define how to handle ghostly interactions, as well as implement an ancras database and provide protection against ghosts’ ancras, and all that.” She pulled out a thick binder filled with pages. “I’m going to be presenting it to the UN in a week or so. I’d like to hear your input on what I have so far.”

 

Caleb stammered, “Uh, sure?” and found himself with an armful of paper.

 

“Keep it; I have copies.” Then, there was a beep, and she swore. “Dammit, I’ve got class in five across campus. Email me and let me know if Vortex gets out of hand at all!”

And then she was off.

 

“Damn,” Robbie whispered, and Connor jerked. He had honestly forgotten that his cousin was there; he had been too captivated by the scene unfolding before him. Robbie had a stunned look on his face, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene before him. Apparently what had just happened had changed his perspective on Sam Manson and ghosts.

 

He didn’t exactly remember how he left the cafeteria, or said goodbye to Robbie. What he did remember was the flash of metal and the roar of a motorcycle. He looked up just in time to see Manson, bag slung over her shoulder, climbing onto the back of a motorcycle. The driver in front of it was outfitted in jeans and a leather jacket. A helmet, but the face shield was up.

 

Green eyes flashed at Connor. The engine roared, and the two sped down the road.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think about the fic overall!!!!! Especially the smut, because that was my first time writing such stuff and I'm still 99% sure it was bad.


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